. . . .
So the Dutch let him go, and they watched him, as off from the Islands he ran,
Doubting him much, but what would you? You have to be sure of your man
Ere you wake up that nest-full of hornets -- the little brown men of Japan.
Down in the ooze and the coral, down where earth's wonders are spread,
Helmeted, ghastly, and swollen, Kanzo Makame lies dead:
Joe Nagasaki, his `tender', is owner and diver instead.
Wearer of pearls in your necklace, comfort yourself if you can,
These are the risks of the pearling -- these are the ways of Japan,
`Plenty more Japanee diver, plenty more little brown man!'
The City of Dreadful Thirst
The stranger came from Narromine and made his little joke --
`They say we folks in Narromine are narrow-minded folk.
But all the smartest men down here are puzzled to define
A kind of new phenomenon that came to Narromine.
`Last summer up in Narromine 'twas gettin' rather warm --
Two hundred in the water-bag, and lookin' like a storm --
We all were in the private bar, the coolest place in town,
When out across the stretch of plain a cloud came rollin' down,
`We don't respect the clouds up there, they fill us with disgust,
They mostly bring a Bogan shower -- three rain-drops and some dust;
But each man, simultaneous-like, to each man said, "I think
That cloud suggests it's up to us to have another drink!"
`There's clouds of rain and clouds of dust -- we'd heard of them before,
And sometimes in the daily press we read of "clouds of war":
But -- if this ain't the Gospel truth I hope that I may burst --
That cloud that came to Narromine was just a cloud of thirst.
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